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2010-05-15 - No Man is an Island
Fern Calico transmits, "Jung, we've done the extraction. I'm pulling out before he gets a lucky strke in." Jung Freud transmits, "F- God dammit! Do you see Alex??" The beam rifle lances through the head of the GOUF, exiting out clean through the other end. Despite the fact that his video feed cuts off, Dino knows what's going to happen. He already calculated the descent path clearly in his head, he can feel the Rouge - now unable to sustain its flight - be overtaken by gravity. The should be htting the water surface just about-- The first impact hits with enough force that Alex Dino is knocked forehead-first into his controls. It's enough to disorient him. Striking the back of his head against his chair, that's enough to knock him out. By the time Alex comes to, he is relatively surprised to find himself not being compressed by the water's pressure. His head stings as light floods into his vision; gingerly touching the side of his head, he winces, pulling it away. No blood. That's good. He stares at his controls; the radio has been damaged beyond repair. "Gnuh..." he mumbles incoherently, rubbing his temples. Where is he-- "... Cagalli!" The sudden realization of his situation comes with a look of surprise -- and then one of caution. Is she dead? Is she alive? Is she here, did she get lost in the sea? Carefully, Alex pries himself out of his seat. He pats the knife in his pocket, just to be sure. Gripping onto the handle, he unlocks the manual cockpit hatch, forcefully prying the hydraulic hatch of his mobile suit apart. The sun glares down, reflecting and blinding him despite the sunglasses. He sees beach. An island? A good fact to know, but, more importantly those green eyes search for something else: the Strike Rouge. Cagalli. Revive Revival transmits, "I'm in no condition to do a search -- this thing's nearly out of juice." Fern Calico transmits, "I don't. But I can look once I get out of this brawl. The missiles messed up my sonar. Again." Jung Freud breathes rapidly for a moment. "Dammit, these /fucking/ Nemos!" Huang Qin Shi transmits, "What's wrong? Having problems finding them?" The Strike Rouge finally managed to disengage from the GOUF about a kilometer out; it's not immediately visible when Alex pops the cockpit, not still in that deadly embrace. Instead, it's about fifty meters to the east, likewise washed up on the beach; the IWSP at this point has been split in two, one section washed up with the Rouge, the other... likely lost at sea. The Princess, meanwhile, lies in the cockpit, bunched up into one of the corners by the linear seat's attempt to keep her in one piece; the safety mechanisms have managed to keep this being from much worse than whiplash, but nevertheless, she doesn't feel exactly stellar after that particular round of bouncing across the water. Groaning under her breath, Cagalli pushes at the seat, trying to reposition it so she can access the hatch. After about a minute, she manages it, probably drawing Dino's attention if she didn't already have it. Fern Calico transmits, "Pulling back. Dino, if you can send a signal or something, do it." Fern Calico transmits, "We did what we wanted to. Pull back." Jung Freud transmits, "A-- Alex! - Say something, blow something up, do something!!" Alex Dino stumbles forward. He feels woozy and unbalanced even now, but it doesn't last too long before the Coordinator manages to get his bearings. He's on a beach. An island. In the Pacific. It could be one of hundreds of island chains, he realizes, and through the haze he tries to remember the coordinates the Tuatha de Danaan breached at. Fifteen degrees south, one hundred and-- The sound of sound of metallic hissing and the simultaneous sight of the Strike Rouge off in the distance break Dino from his thoughts. The blue-haired Coordinator looks up in surprise, seeing the hatch of the Rouge open. Cagalli -- so she's still in the Strike? And it looks relatively intact. He withdraws his knife; it's both an insurance, and to make sure he can help if Cagalli needs to be forcibly removed from the Strike's restraints. Then-- Alex breaks into a sprint a second later; rather than going on a defensive or attempting to hide, the young Coordinator instead leaps onto the leg of the Strike Rouge, crouching off it and scraping fingers across the salt-water encrusted grooves of the limb before bounding off. He lands on the torso with a distinctive metallic -=whud=-. If Cagalli wasn't alerted to his presence, she should be now. /Especially/ when he reaches towards the cockpit entrance of the Strike Rouge. With the glare of the sun against his back, it's a bit hard to make out his appearance. But with the faint glimmer of a knife against his right palm, and with him advancing on the cockpit-- "Cagalli--" Alex Dino's radio is dead silent. Fern Calico transmits, "Hnh. En route to his last location. Hopefully the Gernsback cooperates." Jung Freud doesn't say anything coherent. There is some muffled half-noises, though. Jung Freud sounds sick. "Fern, I can't... I mean, can you... can you extract, if..." Fern Calico, shortly, "I'm looking." The Princess of Orb sees that incoming form, if only barely; mildly concussed and thoroughly thrown around, Cagalli can only dimly make out that silhouette. Almost on reflex, Cagalli fumbles for her sidearm, hands groping under her seat. It doesn't take long for her to find it -- she always keeps it right under the seat, for precisely (what) this situation (seems like). "S-stay back," she stammers under her breath, voice tense and strained, as she aims the gun for that faint glimmer of a knife. "I'll shoot," she affirms, trying to position herself a little deeper into the cockpit, trying to buy herself a little more time to react if he comes at her. She repositions herself further after a second, getting ready to plant both feet in his stomach if he so much as twitches toward her; she doesn't really have the heart to shoot cleanly in close quarters like these, and after two years, she's started to realize that. The cockpit is dark without the lighting. It's hard to clearly make out Cagalli -- especially in his shades. He can see here, vaguely; she seems to be safe. Not caught up, at least. He can hear the click of a gun, the glint of the barrel as Cagalli holds it up, and a dim awareness comes over him: in this situation, with him as he is... the shades don't matter. "... Cagalli. You're okay," he says slowly, sounding more like a question than a statement. His left hand falls back slowly, carefully, to resheathe that knife back into its hiding space. He lifts his right hand, clenching his shades and withdrawing them carefully. He doesn't bother to try and hide his voice; he has no modulators, and at this point, it's useless anyway. He swallows once. He really didn't want it to come to this. "You're not going to shoot," he says, as if it were a matter of fact. "I'm not trying to hurt you. I just -- I just want to make sure you're okay." He steps forward, blotting out the sun, until his overshadowed form can be seen. Blue hair, green eyes -- wearing a teal A-LAWS flight suit. "It's me," Athrun Zala says as he holds out a hand. "... Put the gun down." The Princess's heart sinks as she realizes just who's encroached on her cockpit. Her gun drops as much out of distress as out of lack of fear. "... Athrun? But -- you --" She isn't sure whether to go to him and give him a hug or turn away in frustration -- no, something more primal than frustration. Disgust. "Athrun, you... it was you, in the GOUF?" she asks, though she already knows the answer. That voice... it's him, it's been him all along. But -- why? Does he think that the A-LAWS are the best path to peace? Does he have something to take back from them, like she did? ZAFT's rulership has changed -- but it's gone to a man who helped them during the conflict, even if he's thrown in with the A-LAWS? Is he just doing what he thinks is right? She knows the answer, at heart. The way he spoke to her in the GOUF -- that's not the voice of a man trying to hide something. Not someone like Athrun, genuine to a fault. Not someone like Athrun, capable of joking with a bullet in his stomach. No -- he meant what he said. Which... leaves her with only one question. "Why the Hell are you flying for the A-LAWS?! Don't you know what that organization is built out of?!" she asks, even as she takes his hand. "ZGMF-X2000CQGB&S GOUF Crusher, it's a new suit for close combat," Athrun answers, knowing full well that isn't what Cagalli meant. His hand continues to extend in offering to Cagalli to help her out of the cockpit. His muscles feel a little stiff; he chalks it up to the landing. The hand continues to be offered as Cagalli makes her angry, impassioned demands. Gripping onto the blonde's as she takes it, he pulls her up wordlessly, taking her out of the cockpit and seeking to help guide her down the mobile suit. "... The crash took out my radio; I don't think any of my distress signals are working either. I'd guess you have some similar problems," he continues, pointedly not answering Cagalli's demands. Holding firmly to her hand, he carefully navigates down the Strike, sliding down its arm and landing on the right hand, moving to help stabilize the Princess of Orb if she needs it. "If I'm remembering the coordinates right, I think this might be part of one of the atoll chains in the South Pacific. We can probably get a rudimentary fire going." And he'll continue like this, trying to ignore the more important points. Why is he flying for A-LAWS? He was really hoping to avoid this. "If your distress signals aren't working, and they're still looking for either of us, we can probably use a smoke signal to get their attention, but that'll probably require a bit more work..." The shooting in the distance /has/ died down. That means they're probably looking. The Princess's motions are a little wobbly as she heads down the mobile suit with Athrun, gripping his hand tightly even as she feels frustration overwhelm her heart. At the very least, Athrun isn't giving any answers; Cagalli has yet to decide whether this is a blessing or a curse. "... all right. Let's... give it a shot," Cagalli says, deciding just to go with it for now -- she doesn't really have much of a choice. She's stranded with Athrun God knows how many miles from anyone else... the only chance either of them have of getting off this rock is to work together, at least this far. "I think the electronics on mine are all wrecked, too... if we try, though, I bet we can jury-rig a working comm rig together, if they don't notice the smoke..." Cagalli reflects, after a minute or so, voice still tense. "But... you owe me an explanation," she adds. Athrun remains standing on that hand for a long, lingering moment of silence. After a moment, he registers the warm sensation against his fingertips, looking down to see Cagalli's hand still in his grasp. Blinking, he releases it immediately, proceeding to leap off the hand and land nimbly on the sandy earth. Luckily, awkward looks are avoided as he turns his back to Cagalli. "... Alright. Try to get the pieces together for a comm rig, then; the hatch on my GOUF's still open. I'll try and find some dry sticks and leaves, and--" He pauses here, scratching his head as if in thought. "Just don't try to take anything else out of my cockpit, alright?" There's nothing really sensitive inside of there, and he knows he can trust her if he asks anyway. He knows. But-- '... you owe me an explanation.' "... Do you think I'm a bad person?" The question comes pointedly, but a second later, Athrun disregards it, waving a gloved hand through the air. "No -- nevermind. Arguing isn't going to get us anywhere right now. If you want an explanation..." His brows furrow; despite himself, he feels a headache dawning. Not because of any turmoil, but-- "... I'll tell you when I get back." And with that, breaks into a swift walk towards the outcropping of trees some distance off. He has to hurry with this much; odds are the initial search party only has a certain amount of fuel to expend in the search. They might have hours. After that point, it'll be a lot more difficult. Nodding to Athrun, Cagalli says, "... all right. Don't worry about it -- I won't peek," Cagalli says, staggering across the beach, toward the GOUF's cockpit; she's started to find her balance, but she still doesn't precisely feel spectacular. Whiplash is a pretty serious problem. That said, adrenaline can carry you through a whole lot, and Cagalli's certainly still riding some of that. Glancing back to Athrun one last time before he gets too far away, Cagalli takes a deep breath, rubbing at her temples. Though he's too far away and she's too quiet for him to hear her, she does give him her answer. "... I don't know," she murmurs, as she starts to climb up the GOUF, doing her best to stay steady, not trying anything too fancy. "Right now, I don't know." It takes longer than Athrun expected to get his materials. It's not that the gathering is difficult. But... he has other complications. He returns in stages; moving just to the edge of the beach, he drops down twigs, leaves, sometimes even entire branches, arranging them into a neat pile before leaving. This occurs three more times, the pile growing progressively larger as more dried, dead plant life is added to the pile; a smaller pile for the beginnings of a camp fire is set beside it. The evening hours have dragged on and the sun begins to set as Athrun returns with the last batch; in his other arm, he holds several vines, berries still attached to them in abundance. Distantly, green eyes look down, towards the two mobile suits. His brows scrunch together, and he debates saying something-- --instead, he crouches, starting work on a pair of dry twigs as smoke begins to rise from his smaller pile. It's not Athrun, but rather the billow of smoke and the slow and steady rise of flames that should let Cagalli know -- his end is ready. "... Why'd this have to happen?" he mumbles to himself as he gradually starts feeding branches to the fire, forcing down a wealth of unpleasant memories. Cagalli finds the work rough going; getting a comm going is harder work than she'd thought. She gets the pieces from the GOUF, sure enough, but when it comes to integrating them into the Rouge... well, some of the basics remain the same, but just as much of it is completely different. It takes her a long time to cobble together something that even kind of works -- it's a pretty crappy laser comm, all told, in the cockpit of the Rouge. She's a little hesitant to test it without Athrun there, though... so rather than try to fiddle with it now, she heads over, slowly, toward the fire. Her neck feels a little worse now, but her head feels a little better... it balances out, one supposes. "It's done. I don't know if it's good, or if it'll work... but it's done," Cagalli says, slumping by the fire, looking exhausted. "Ugghh. I saw you coming and going for a while, but I didn't... know what to say, mostly," she admits. She didn't know what to say? Athrun smiles wryly despite himself, tossing a twig into the fire as he sits down. His legs bend up at the knees and he wrests his arms atop them, staring almost blandly into the fire as it continues to grow. "... It's fine," he says after a long moment of silence. "I probably wouldn't have said anything either." Green eyes glance toward the laser comm, thoughtfully. He looks almost surprised, tilting his head to the side as that uncomfortable feeling briefly washes off of him. "Wow, that's actually pretty good," he says, genuinely shocked. "Here, bring it over; I'll take a closer look at it, but it should be good enough to get in contact with whoever you need to." Looking to the side, Athrun sweeps his hand to the side, towards the berry-filled shrubs beside him. "I, ah -- got some food. They're edible. They actually taste pretty good. They should help, if you're hungry." He looks back to the fire, and sinks his head into his arms. "... Are you alright?" he says, after a long silence passes. "We had to jury-rig a lot of stuff up for a while," Cagalli says, not quite nailing down just which time period in her life she's referring to. "Somewhere along the line I got, uh, OK with it, I guess," she concludes, a wry smile crossing her face as she staggers over with the device, setting it down carefully next to the berries. "The components were kinda weird, so I couldn't do everything..." Glancing to the berries as she lets the more experienced technologist take a look at the awkward kludge she's managed. "You -- probably need them more than I do," Cagalli says, shaking her head. "You went and gathered all this stuff -- I just sat in the cockpits." Taking slow, deep breaths, she says, "I, uh -- my neck's really sore," after a second or two. "What about you?" "I'm fine," Athrun insists with a calm smile that seems more than a little forced; his tone, at least, is completely level. "Really. I don't need it -- eat up. ... It'll help." A faint gesture goes to Cagalli as he leans over and takes the comm device. Peeling open the front panel, Athrun peers inside, looking through the hodgepodge assemblage with a scrutinizing gaze. He does what he can to adjust the pieces here and there with only his bare hands, even as he continues to speak. "Rest for now, we've got a bit more time before anyone shows up here." Smoke waftes upward as thick, billowing clouds of black rise toward the heavens like a whispy, phantasmic spire. Athrun keeps his eyes focused on his work, tweaking one of the GOUF's leads. He only pauses when Cagalli speaks again. "... I'm fine," he repeats his earlier assurance. "I hit my head during the crash, but it doesn't seem to be anything significant. ... You'll probably be sore for a while, but you don't seem like you have any debilitating injuries." Half a minute passes. Athrun stares blankly at the communications device, his brows knitting together. "... I killed my father," he says; it doesn't come easily, but somehow it still sounds oddly detached. "I thought about it a lot. What I did, if I was wrong. ... And I don't think I was. I think... part of my dad always wanted the Naturals to die, even before my mom--" He cuts himself short here, taking in a deep breath. "I love the PLANTS. You love your home too, right? "But there was still so many evil people living there, even right under my nose." Patrick Zala, Rau Le Creuset. "There was still corruption in my home. But the people of the PLANTs -- they aren't bad people." Twitch, twist, tug. "Even though there were some people who did so many evil things, I don't think I should have just condemned it was all evil - they were all corrupt - because of that. ... do you?" "Yeah, it's... nothing bad," Cagalli says, glancing down at the berries again; after a few seconds, she picks a few up, looks at them for a long time, and pops a coule in her mouth. She's reasonably certain these are on the 'okay to eat' list; if not, well, hopefully she just throws up rather than anything worse. Cagalli loks down into her lap, unsure what to say, as Athrun tells her that horrible truth. She can't even fathom it -- it seems so alien to her... but then, Corner was practically family himself. Maybe they're not so different. "... I dunno," Cagalli says, quite honestly. "I mean -- I love my home, and I don't think you should just say it's all awful because of a few people..." Considering she's put an A-LAWS operative up under her own (metaphorical) roof, she'd be insane to say otherwise. "But... I just -- can't accept the idea that you have to live inside the system or get crushed by it. I don't want to live in that system. A lot of people don't," Cagalli says, sounding more choked, more strained than she should. "And until that changes, I... can't stop fighting, even if I want to." Swallowing hard, she says, "I'm -- sorry, about... your father. About what he did." She opens her mouth as if to say something else, but just can't manage it. At the very least, Athrun also tried some out; if he hasn't vomitted to death yet, Cagalli should be fine. Probably. Athrun listens. He is quiet after he finishes, and though he seems consumed by fidgeting with the cumbersome device he turns deftly between his fingers, he hears everything Cagalli tells him -- all too noticeable as an uncomfortable frown tugs at his lips. "... You don't have to apologize. It's my fault. I should have--" Athrun shakes his head. "... it's too late for that now. But... "... I don't think he had been the father I remembered for a long time." He goes quiet again, swapping a pair of circuits together. Finally, his lips part, and he looks up. "The Divine Crusaders had a lot of people serving that I thought were genuinely good," Athrun continues, quietly. "So does A-LAWS. My friends--" Shinn, despite everything, he chooses not to say. Nicol. The Fraternity Unit. Jung. His brows soften. "--but more than that. You think A-LAWS is something evil, but... it's just people who want to protect the things they care about. Councilman Durandal is a good man. He cares about people." The words come without hesitation or guilt; Athrun stares straight forward, towards the lifting smoke. "I... don't think he's evil, either. There might be some people who are corrupt, there might be some people who are vile." Athrun turns his head, to look pointedly at Cagalli. "... but can you say Katharon doesn't have those sorts of people either? People who believe so strongly in themselves, in their convictions -- that they'd be willing to do anything to see it done? To see their ambitions succeed?" Athrun sighs, closing his eyes. "You're a good person, Cagalli. You're a strong person. ... a lot of people in Katharon are. "But to me, all you're doing is creating an environment in which people like that can continue to thrive." Cagalli frowns, as Athrun starts to tell her... in many ways, things she already knows. It's not as though she's on poor terms with much of the membership of A-LAWS... quite the opposite, in fact. Several of them are people she respects. And part of that is what makes this so difficult -- the fact that she knows that, and yet, the people signing their paychecks, the people writing their orders... ... are the sorts of people who tell Cagalli that everything she fought for was just a convenient thing to destroy to 'unite the world's will.' It's sick and twisted... but she can't tell them that. They have no reason to believe her. And the converse... well, Alejandro had certainly sat there, as a growing cancer. "... I'm sorry," she eventually says. "I understand what you're trying to say, and if you believe in it... then I want you to fight for it. But --" I just can't accept the world that will come out of it, she thinks. Instead of saying it, she goes quiet. "... if you do, I'll have to fight back." "All my life my father made taught me that the people on Earth were fearful oppressors to be hated. And after they destroyed my home I started to think that too. And meeting them now... a lot of them are good people. Weird people, but... good. Dependable." He chews his lips, considering this. "It's not that hard, you know -- to hate someone. To hate some/thing./" Athrun smiles ruefully, turning back to the device. He starts a final check, but at this point he knows it's just idle work. "Maybe the dividing line between people like us and people like my dad isn't really that big after all." Cagalli speaks. And when she does, his smile fades. "... I know," he offers, after a long moment, in a way that sympathizes in more ways than one with what Cagalli says -- maybe with what she thinks. "I'll fight, too. And I won't hold anything back. "I have people I love that I want to protect, too." Slowly, Athrun sets down the transmitter and smiles. "You did a good job. It should work alright now. If they don't see the smoke, they'll at least get this." He pauses, considering. "... I don't think I ever told you, but... thanks." Something dawns on him, then, and he looks honestly curious. "Did you get the gun I sent?" "... It probably isn't," Cagalli says, about that thin dividing line. She knows where it is -- and indeed, some of this conversation has made her afraid that Athrun could run right across it without noticing. She knows she certainly could've. But right now... she doesn't know. She isn't even sure if he's going to cross that line, let alone how to keep him from it. The question about the gun catches Cagalli completely off-guard. "... yeah," she says, after a minute or two. "You -- you really didn't have to do that, but... the thought was nice, I guess," she stammers, unsure what else to say about it. "I'm -- not super comfortable using it, though," she admits, with kind of an awkward giggle. Frowning, she finds herself having a more difficult time than expected coming up with something to say to Athrun. After fighting alongside him only to find out that the worlds they want seem to be all too different from one another, after all... what do you say to that? "You're really not that good with a gun," Athrun asserts with a bit of an amused smile. The teasing chide comes almost naturally, accompanied with a good-natured laugh as if the blue-haired Coordinator is privately amused at that fact. The laughter dies soon enough, as he recalls something he told a certain pink-haired girl that used to be his enemy not too many months ago. "It's not too hard to figure out how to use them. You just have to think about the people you want to protect." Slowly pushing the communication device towards Cagalli, Athrun remains silent. Thoughtful. That line. It's one that Athrun might have run the risk of crossing before. Now -- now he just wants to distance himself as far from the name 'Zala' as he possibly can. The way he speaks, there's no waivering in his words. People like Gilbert Durandal taught him that much, at least-- "No matter how bad something is, you just need even a few people willing to fix it." Athrun heaves a sigh, leaning back as he tosses another stick into the fire. He looks up towards the skies as the night starts to settle in completely. The silence is tense, but he doesn't think much of it. His brows crease together. "... Don't tell Kira or Lacus. Please," he says, after a long moment. "They have too many troubles to worry about right now as it is. If I could help it, I wouldn't want to add anything more to it." He considers these words. "... I wouldn't want them to have to fight anymore, if I could help it." "... all right," Cagalli says, with a small nod. She doesn't like this request at all... but if he's going to make it, she's going to honor it. Taking that kludged-together communication device in hand, Cagalli does her best to tune it to Katharon's frequencies, making a few different attempts. What an awkward little device, she thinks -- but then again, who's at fault for that one? It is at this point that she just runs out of words to say to Athrun -- something about what he's saying... it feels -- understandable, but there's something about it that Cagalli just can't quite feel out. Chewing on her lip again out of nervousness, she finally manages to get what seems like a solid signal, and decides to try to give it a shot. "I'll -- bring it back after I figure out if I can signal someone," Cagalli says," as she starts to head just a few steps away. "Take your time," Athrun says after skipping a beat. It's not hard to hear it -- to see it in Cagalli's actions. She's nervous. Part of him can't really blame her-- He remembers something as she moves away, looking up as she goes. "When -- /if/ we get in contact with them, with... the search parties," if there even are any. He thinks so, at least. There was probably enough manpower and fuel to spare, objectively speaking, for a few hours of search-- "... we should probably go our separate ways." He really doesn't think about the dangers of running into other Katharon soldiers in this situation. He's never been particularly concerned for his own safety for a long while, but... "It'll probably be safer." He probably should have tied Cagalli up and brought her in. He realizes that. He also realizes he probably can't tell anyone about this, either. But despite everything he can't bring himself to do that to her. "... Just... let me know if you contact someone." Cagalli was expecting that; they certainly couldn't go back together, not after this. Turning back as she fiddles with the system, having gotten no response the first time, Cagalli nods to Athrun, saying, "... yeah, it's -- for the best, I guess, if we just... split up," as much as she wishes it weren't the case. If only she could know what he was thinking, the Princess thinks. If only she could have that intuitive knowledge, the way Amuro does -- even the way Rachel does. Maybe then this would be easier... or maybe that added dimension would only make it even harder than it already is. She doesn't know. With that in mind, the Princess goes back to fiddling with the comm, trying her best to flag down someone, /anyone/. Athrun goes silent as Cagalli continues to tune the radio frequencies. There's really not much more he can say -- not much he can think to say. Part of him wants to try to convince her to stop this before things get worse. Part of him wants to tell her he doesn't want to have to hurt her, or Kira. That they're still friends -- that they're still important to him. "... are you getting through?" But most of him knows all of that is impossible. The Coordinator stands, staring at the smoke trail lifting into the sky. Even if the radio isn't working, it should be enough of a signal for anyone looking. "... I'm going to head back to the GOUF. The smoke signal should be enough here for the A-LAWS search party. Try heading to the other side; I'll convince them to leave your Strike behind." Unless otherwise stopped, then, Athrun will begin walking, his fingers curling together into fists as he goes. Things always have to be complicated. As Cagalli gets a signal, she goes to turn to Athrun to deliver the good news -- and is promptly cut off by his question. "... Yeah, after a little while I got through," Cagalli says, nodding to Alex as he says he's going to head back to the machine. "... all right -- I'll head to the other end. I'll just... leave the comm by the campfire once I'm done with it, in case you end up needing it." Someday, Cagalli thinks, this kind of thing is going to be easy, if things keep going like this. And that's what's really scary, isn't it? Category:Logs